


and it was plain to see: you were my destiny

by lco123



Category: Private Practice
Genre: Bring Them Back Challenge, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Susan wakes up, Bizzy is still in her wedding dress, a shawl tucked up over the Bulgari necklace and her head bent over a magazine, and the sight makes Susan smile.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>What if Susan didn't die?</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it was plain to see: you were my destiny

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [The_Kissing_Rock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kissing_Rock/pseuds/The_Kissing_Rock) in the [Bring_Them_Back_Fic_Television](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bring_Them_Back_Fic_Television) collection. 
  * In response to a prompt by [The_Kissing_Rock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kissing_Rock/pseuds/The_Kissing_Rock) in the [Bring_Them_Back_Fic_Television](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bring_Them_Back_Fic_Television) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Character: Susan Grant
> 
> Cause of Death: Septic Shock
> 
> Deathisode: Blind Love (4x13)
> 
> Write a story where Susan lives.
> 
>  
> 
> If you haven’t watched Private Practice or need a little refresher on these characters, here it is: Bizzy Forbes was the mother of main character Addison Montgomery, who is a world-renowned neonatal surgeon and OB/GYN. In the fourth season of the show, Bizzy revealed to Addison that she was a lesbian and had been in a long-standing relationship with her assistant, Susan Grant. Addison did not take the news very well, in part because Bizzy had never been a very loving or communicative mother. A little while later, Bizzy revealed that Susan had stage IV ovarian cancer, and she implored Addison to provide treatment. While an initial surgery appeared to have been successful, Susan collapsed due to septic shock the night she and Bizzy got married. Susan realized that the cancer had indeed come back, but she decided to no longer seek treatment and to keep this information from Bizzy, leaving Addison as the only one who knew. Not long after, Susan died due to a blood clot in her lung, and a few days later, Bizzy, in a fit of grief, intentionally overdosed on prescription medication. This story picks up the night of the wedding after Susan collapsed, and it imagines a different future for these women.

When Susan wakes up, Bizzy is still in her wedding dress, a shawl tucked up over the Bulgari necklace and her head bent over a magazine, and the sight makes Susan smile. “Did I ever tell you that you make a beautiful bride?” Susan murmurs, pushing past the lump in her throat. “Because you do.”

Bizzy’s head snaps to attention as she flings the magazine aside and reaches for Susan’s hand, maneuvering her fingers around the pulse monitor. Her eyes are hard and filled with tears. “What do you need?” she asks with concern. “I’ll get Addison.” She moves to stand but Susan weakly raises a hand to still her.

“Don’t go,” Susan implores. “Please, stay with me.”

Bizzy seems to consider that for a moment before settling back in her chair. Susan glances quickly down at her own body. Her wedding dress is long-gone, likely cut right off of her, and in its place is a scratchy hospital gown. 

“Addison won’t tell me anything,” Bizzy says, voice sharp.

Susan shakes her head. “Don’t blame Addison. I asked her not to.”

Bizzy raises an eyebrow, her back stiffening. “What’s going on?” she asks.

Susan forces a small smile. Bizzy’s clearly been crying; her mascara is smudged down one cheek and her lipstick has all but rubbed off. She still looks lovely. “It came back, dear,” Susan says very quietly. “And I’m done fighting.”

Bizzy raises her chin. “The cancer?” she says incredulously. “No, that’s impossible. Addie said they got it all.”

“They did,” Susan tells her. “But I didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer than I had to, so I wouldn’t let them run more tests after the surgery.”

Bizzy blinks rapidly, her jaw set. “Well, we’ll do exactly what we did before.”

“No,” Susan says softly. “I’m done. I’m so tired of these hospital beds and monitors and CAT scans.”

“Well I don’t care!” Bizzy exclaims. “We just took vows: for better or for worse. This is our worst! We spent twenty years waiting for each other. I’m not going to give us up after five minutes of marriage. I know you’re tired. I’m tired too. But Susan, please—” The word breaks on a sob, and Susan strokes her arm gently.

“Shh,” Susan whispers. “Breathe, breathe.”

“Dammit!” Bizzy says through her tears. “I’m not finished yet!  _We_  are not finished! I never—” She glances down with a shaky breath, as though concerned the words will catch on the ragged edges of her voice. “Did you ever think we’d get to live in a world where hiding wasn’t necessary? Where we could actually be together?”

“No,” Susan answers truthfully, lifting a finger to quickly wipe at the tears that have pooled in the corners of her eyes.

“I just got you, darling,” Bizzy continues, gripping Susan’s hand just to the edge of too firmly. “You are my everything, and I just got you. So I need you to try.”

“Bizzy,” Susan says chidingly, though there’s not much argument left in her.

“One more time, that’s all I ask, okay?” Bizzy says like it’s been decided. “You have one more fight left in you, right?”

Susan studies her wife for a long and heavy moment. Bizzy’s practically manic now, tears streaming down her face and falling with abandon onto her shawl. This woman…this woman loves Susan, more than anyone else ever has. This woman wants her to fight. No one else has ever cared enough to ask that. To demand it.

Susan closes her eyes, and when she reopens them she knows her answer. “One more,” she agrees softly. “But if it doesn’t work—”

“It will,” Bizzy insists.

“But if it doesn’t,” Susan says, “don’t blame Addison.”

Bizzy nods dismissively and lifts Susan’s hand to kiss it. Susan lets her head fall back against the pillows, a bit of tension releasing in her sore body now that this confession is out of the way.

“You’re very stubborn,” Susan points out.

“Damn right,” Bizzy shoots back without an ounce of levity. “You once told me that’s why you loved me.”

“It is,” Susan replies. “God help me, Bizzy, it is.”

 

Susan is pretty sure that Addison is the Patron Saint of Last Chances. There can be no other explanation for the fact that Susan is considered just strong enough to undergo the surgery again. Addison tells them this information very professionally, not meeting Susan’s or Bizzy’s eyes. Susan would understand if Addison is angry with her; she put her in an awful situation.

Once Addie leaves the room, Bizzy gets up from the chair beside Susan’s bed and walks around to her feet, then makes a loop across to the door of the tiny bathroom and back again. “You’re pacing,” Susan comments. “You never pace.”

Bizzy stops moving and looks up. “Not true,” she informs Susan. “After you kissed me for the first time, I paced through the house for hours. I couldn’t sit still.”

Susan smiles lopsidedly at the memory. “We were much younger women then,” she says. “Do you ever wish—”

“Yes,” Bizzy cuts in immediately. “I wish all sorts of things.”

Susan pats the spot on the bed beside her. She’s pretty sure she’s numb to feeling sick at this point, or maybe she’s just dying, because she is only just dimly aware of the pain and frailty in her body. There’s some type of pain medication dripping into an IV, but it’s a fairly low dose. Susan didn’t want to be cloudy today.

Bizzy comes to sit beside her on the bed, her hands automatically going to rearrange the blanket edges around Susan’s chest. “I’m sorry that this is the closest we get to sharing a bed on our wedding night,” Susan murmurs.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bizzy replies as she distracts herself with the bedsheets. “And don’t apologize. These sheets are a travesty. Maybe Addie can send Sam back to the hotel to get you nicer ones.”

Susan gently pulls Bizzy’s hands away from the sheets and holds them in her own. “Bizzy, there are things we need to discuss.” Her stomach rolls as she says the words. This is the conversation they’ve been dreading ever since Susan’s initial diagnosis. “You know where my will is. It isn’t much, but it’s all for you.”

“Stop!” Bizzy says harshly. “I won’t hear this. You are going to be fine.”

“You heard Addie,” Susan replies. “The odds aren’t in our favor. Darling, just hear me out. I’m undergoing this procedure for you. You need to listen, for me. That’s what marriage is, right? A give and take?”

Bizzy sniffs and rolls her eyes. “Well, my marriage mostly consisted of drinking martinis and not having sex. But as long as you don’t try to say goodbye to me, I'll listen.”

Susan nods. “I’ll take it,” she says, taking as big a breath as her body can currently handle. “I love you. I will always love you, no matter what happens. But you have love in your life beyond me. Your children and your ex-husband all love you very, very much.” Susan squeezes Bizzy’s hand. “Don’t forget that. And don’t forget that you love them too.”

“That was very close to a goodbye,” Bizzy comments crossly, her eyes looking heavy with unshed tears.

Susan shrugs. “It’s the best I’ve got right now.”

 

When Susan wakes up, Bizzy is no longer in her wedding dress, but she is right there, of course, not even bothering with the pretense of a magazine this time. Susan feels like her brain is crammed with cotton balls, and she can’t really move and everything hurts, but it’s okay, at least for a moment, because Bizzy smiles. “You’re alive,” Bizzy breathes out, very gently caressing Susan’s face. 

“I am,” Susan manages to get out, and Bizzy actually laughs. Susan hasn’t heard that in so long. “How’d it go?”

“We got it all,” Addison says from the corner of the room. “You’ll need some follow-up scans for a while, but for now, we got it all.”

Susan feels her chapped lips crack on a smile. Bizzy is wiping away tears, and Addison tentatively steps closer. “Thank you,” Susan whispers.

“Give us a moment, please, Addison,” Bizzy says stiffly. Addison turns on her heel and moves to walk out, but not before Bizzy catches her hand. “Thank you.” Addison’s mouth opens and closes on air, and she leaves without another word.

“Tell her you’re proud of her,” Susan instructs as Bizzy reaches for a cup of ice chips.

“Later,” Bizzy promises her, tracing a piece of ice over Susan’s mouth. “For now, I’m going to kiss my wife.”

The ice on Susan’s lips melts against the warmth of Bizzy’s mouth. The kiss is quick, chaste, but it makes Susan flash, briefly, on all the kisses they’re shared before: the first time Susan kissed Bizzy in the Forbes-Montgomery backyard, when after months of circling each other Susan couldn’t take it any longer; the hundreds of timid pecks and long, slow make-outs in offices and kitchens and one time, hilariously, in an actual closet; the first time Bizzy kissed Susan in public, eight months before Susan’s diagnosis; their kiss just a few days ago as they sealed their wedding vows. Susan knows, in this moment, that this isn’t a goodbye kiss. This is a kiss that promises the future.

“I told you we weren’t finished,” Bizzy murmurs, putting very little space between them. 

“So smug,” Susan replies, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.

Bizzy shakes her head. “Not smug, just right.”

“Okay,” Susan will allow. “Now kiss me again.”

Bizzy bites her lip, girlish, and suddenly she’s forty-six again, and they’re in the backyard and the air smells of lilacs. But this time, Susan isn’t scared; she’s certain, because Bizzy cups her cheek and kisses her again. And she knows that Bizzy will continue to do just that, for as long as they both shall live.


End file.
